Menu

I am not her.

I remind people of someone they’d like to forget. Mothers, sisters, lovers, daughters. I remind people of someone so vile they lose a sense of human decency. I become a punching bag of the ghosts of women past. Someone they can point a finger at and blame all their problems on. I am an easy target, for all I do is take all these emotions and harbor them inside. Its the memories that keep this illusion of who I am alive in your memory. Who you think I am and who I am is completely different to you and me. You could care less who I really am. All that matters is who you believe I am. All I do is just keep reminding you of liars, sinners, and deceitful people.

The memories of the past are what haunt you. Clouding your judgement and making this image of who you think I am. Everything I do is wrong in your world. Reminding you of people from your past that you long to forget. I remind you of every hurt emotion and the pain that follows. You scream, fight, and laugh in my face. You point your judgmental fingers at me and cut me down to the size you believe fit for me. You should have stayed alone, you should have stayed away from me. But you didn’t. There was always something about me that made me different from the rest. Then again there was always something about me that reminded you of pieces of everyone you tried to forget. If you could hurt me, you would. If you could take everything away from me, you would.

If you want me to hate you, I will. I will bandage all these bruises and hide all these scars, and never forgive you. It was only a matter of time before I began to hate you. Hate you for everything you stood for. Hate you for the lies, the sorrow and the grief. But like you, there was something about you that I couldn’t stay away. So I stayed with the belief that I was being punished for everything any female had ever done wrong to you. If you cut me, I will bleed. If you hurt me, I won’t forget. Its your memories that haunt you with these illusions of who you think I am. But I am not her. I am not them, I just wish you would see that.

I remind you of a person from your past. People you wished didn’t exist so everything would stop hurting for once. I remind you of the sinners dressed up like saints. The girl that said she loved you but became a woman that said she can’t. But I can’t pretend that these cuts don’t hurt, when I see them bleeding. That when you drag me through the mud, it doesn’t scrape my knees. I remind people of someone they would like to forget. But I hope you remember that I am not her.